


Well-Kept Secrets

by sebsteve



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Drabble, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, literally just a fluffy trainwreck i am sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-04-01 18:22:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4029979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebsteve/pseuds/sebsteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky finds out about Steve's careful observation of him, his determination to make sure that Bucky is fine throughout the night when things seem hardest, and allows himself to lean on Steve for the first time in many, many years.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Well-Kept Secrets

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I just /had/ to write after rewatching the Cap movies for probably the 4th time. It's my first stevebucky fic and I apologize if it's literal garbage, especially since I have no beta either.  
> I just love them so much, okay, and I read far more on here than probably healthy, so I decided to just join the party myself.  
> Please talk stevebucky with me, we can make it through this together, kids.  
> my tumblr is: http://summerogers.tumblr.com

Steve knew Bucky.

He'd known him his whole life. He'd been there when Bucky had kissed his first dame, when he'd dated his first girlfriend and gotten his first heartbreak. He'd been there when Bucky had broken his first bone, pushing the bigger man back into his chair after he had tried to hobble around on his cast. Steve had been there for it all, but none of it could have prepared him for the Hydra-hardened Winter Soldier that had taken over his best friend.

And still, he'd held onto hope. Waiting for the Winter Soldier to thaw was not an easy feat, but it was what Steve had done, and the little glimpses he caught of Bucky Barnes were more than enough payment. To have that man, that jerk, back would be like returning an old limb of Steve's, even though he wasn't the amputee.

Steve was so far gone on his best friend, had been even seventy years before, that he couldn't stop himself from climbing out of bed in the middle of the night to lean against the door of Bucky's bedroom. He knew Bucky didn't know about his presence there, but it made Steve feel better to know that, if Bucky snapped, forgetting who he was and needing to escape into the night, Steve would be there by the door ready to remind him of all the things he never should have had taken from him. Steve would be there to tell Bucky that he had Steve until the end of the line, no matter the circumstances.

Steve must have gotten particularly lost in his thoughts, for the next moment he was aware of himself was when the door he'd been leaning against was yanked open from behind him. Any semblance of balance left the super soldier, his shoulder slamming into the frame of the door as he rubbed at bleary, sleep-filled eyes. He was acutely aware of the light streaming in through the sole window across the hall, but his attention was immediately drawn to the man standing over him.

Steve briefly thought about picking himself up from the floor and backtracking to his own room, already failing to come up with an excuse as to why he'd been leaning against the brunet's door as he slept. But then he caught sight of the confused look on Bucky's face, one of curiosity and confusion so strong Steve wanted to blurt out all the feelings he'd harbored for decades, right then and there.

Now that Bucky was on the recovery path, gaining pieces of himself back in what could only be an excruciating pace, he blamed himself for everything. He didn't think he deserved love or compassion, and he hadn't even let Steve lay a comforting hand on his shoulder until just a month before. Even that had been strained. So, to see Bucky looking so at a loss to see someone checking up on him, made Steve's chest ache in a way he couldn't ignore.

Still, he couldn't bring himself to share the feelings he knew would come out eventually. It wouldn't be fair to Bucky. Now just wasn't the time.

So he settled on the casual approach. “Hey, Buck.”

Bucky looked at him for a beat or two longer, stray pieces of his long dark hair hanging in front of his face like a poor curtain. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice gruff and tinged with a hint of sleep.

That was the real question, wasn't it? Steve sighed, bringing a hand to rub at his shoulder as he used his half-asleep limbs to pick himself up off the floor. He'd been stupid to think that he could keep trying to appease his own worry without his actions coming to light eventually. He just hadn't expected it to be soon, nor had he thought he'd be foolish enough to fall asleep against the very door he was subconsciously guarding.

“I was just checking on you.”

Bucky was silent, still looking at Steve with a decidedly unreadable expression, before he spoke. “Do you do this often? Check up on me?”

Steve would have taken Bucky to be angry if it wasn't for the soft tone of his voice and the way that he was looking at Steve with something like hope in his hard eyes. Without really thinking about it, Steve gave Bucky the truth. “Yes.”

“How often?”

“Every night, Bucky.”

Steve wasn't sure what was compelling him to be so honest, but he decided he owed it to Bucky. He was beginning to fear that he had upset Bucky, making him feel as though he had no privacy – or worse, thinking that Steve didn't trust him – when Bucky reached out his flesh hand and grasped Steve's hand, giving it a light squeeze.

“Thank you.”

It was the first time Bucky had touched him without first being touched, and it was the first time that Steve's heart almost stopped in the seventy years since his old asthma attacks.

“You got it, pal.”

 

In the days leading to the following week, Steve began to notice that Bucky came to him before he went to bed, alerting Steve of his turning in for the night. At first, it had confused Steve, for Bucky had been known to just shut himself in his room and not come out for roughly eight hours. But then he'd first noticed the little crack that Bucky had begun to leave his door open and let himself wonder if it had a bigger meaning.

The crack wasn't big enough for Steve to fit through, obviously, especially not with his broad shoulders, but it was enough for him to hear if Bucky was hit with one of the terrible nightmares Steve knew took a toll on the damaged man. The crack was even big enough, that, if Steve really wanted to, he could push the door open enough to see Bucky sleeping in his bed, his form illuminated by the light of the moon streaming in from the window. 

Somehow, though, that seemed too much of an invasion of Bucky's privacy. So Steve contented himself with leaning against the wall next to the door, not wanting to lean against the door too heavily in fear of it waking Bucky. Peaceful sleep was too rare for the both of them, and Steve never wanted to take even a second from his best friend. 

 

The first time Bucky was hit with one of his infamous nightmares, Steve was already awake, hovering with his hand on the cold wood of the door. His heart and mind were warring about if it was wrong to barge in on Bucky in such a vulnerable state, before his heart won over and he pushed the door open, leaving Steve to see Bucky thrashing around in his bed, darkness the only thing around for him to grab onto.

Steve made his way to his friend's bed, his stomach alight with worry and slight panic. Bucky's grunts of pain were each like a knife to Steve's chest, the stray broken sobs escaping from Bucky's throat like a small detonation within Steve's heart. 

The next thing Steve knew, he was leaning over Bucky's thrashing and shaking body, using one hand to smooth down the hair matted against Bucky's forehead, and the other to pull covers up over Bucky's body. Steve eased himself onto the mattress, careful not to disturb the sanctity of Bucky's bed too much, before carefully wrapping both arms around his best friend's shoulders and holding him near him as he calmed down, the nightmare seemingly receding and leaving a wide awake and exhausted Bucky in its place.

When Bucky's breathing evened out, his shirt slick with sweat and his hands shaking with the after effects of whatever had been haunting him even in his sleep, Steve became aware of how close the two were in proximity. Steve's arms were wrapped around the shoulders of the other man and there were only a few inches or so keeping Steve from pulling Bucky's head to rest on his chest. 

As soon as Steve became aware, he immediately made to pull away, fearing that he'd overstepped his boundaries, touching and holding Bucky without first asking or giving warning, even if it had only been for the purpose of comfort. But Bucky surprised Steve by coming alive and wrapping his arms around Steve's waist, closing the distance between them to rest his head against Steve's shoulder in a tight hug. It didn't last long, for Bucky pulled his head back after gathering whatever he'd been hoping to from the short embrace, but Steve saw it for what it was.

It was progress, and that alone gave Steve the strength to reach out a hand to push the hair back from Bucky's face, trying his hardest not to cry himself over the way that Bucky's body was still being assaulted by little tremors. 

Neither of them talked, but after a few more moments of eye contact Steve wished he had the knowledge to decipher, Bucky laid himself back down and drew the covers up to his chin. Steve took that as his cue to leave, so he made for the door, pausing when Bucky's voice rang out for the first time all night.

“You can use the chair. If that's more comfortable.”

Bucky's voice was quiet again, muffled slightly by how high he had the covers drawn up around him, but the words themselves brought a tiny smile to Steve's face.

“Thank you.”

The chair wasn't actually comfortable at all, Steve found, but he wouldn't have given up the chance to watch over the man he'd loved since he'd learned the meaning of the word if he'd been given a chair of sharpened knives to place himself upon.

The second time it happened, Steve was slightly more prepared. He had a fresh glass of water in his hand when he pushed his way into the room, having taken note of how dry Bucky said his throat felt after enduring a night terror the previous time, and he had even kept a small pillow outside the room with him in case Bucky invited him to stay in the chair again.

Steve didn't hesitate as much as he had the last time, untangling Bucky from the covers and drawing him up to his chest, wrapping his arms around Bucky in a way he hoped was as comforting to the man in his arms as it was to him. His fingers were curled in Bucky's hair, carefully smoothing out the knots, when the man began to calm down.

The shaking of his shoulders calmed down enough that told Steve that Bucky was about ready to be released from his grip, a thought that simultaneously relaxed and disappointed the blond man. But then Bucky's shoulders started to shake again, less frequently, but more powerful, as he started to release broken sobs that surprised Steve.

The nightmare had stopped, but something inside of Bucky had broken, the walls of a deeply buried dam crumbling as the man clutched onto Steve's shoulders as if they held all the strength in the world. And Steve desperately hoped that he did have that strength, because, if he could, he'd give every ounce of strength he had for himself to the man clutching onto him.

It was more of a dry sob, only a few tears slipping from Bucky's eyes, but the extent of the internal pain was clear in the set of his jaw and the shaking of his hands upon Steve's arms. After taking a few ragged deep breaths, Bucky pulled himself away from Steve slowly, Steve missing the warmth almost immediately.

He needed the comfort almost as much as Bucky did, if not more.

Bucky let out a ragged laugh, leaning back against the headboard before placing his head in his hands. “I'm sorry.”

Bucky's words startled Steve. “What? Don't be sorry, Buck, what are friends for?” Steve replied, forcing himself to ignore the way that his voice cracked and the way that Bucky jerked at Steve's use of 'friends.'

“I don't know.”

Steve recognized that tone as being resigned, Bucky having convinced himself that he didn't know how to be a friend anymore. But Steve knew better than that, knew that Bucky was more capable of being a friend than anyone he had ever met, having been the best friend that Steve had and ever would have.

“I've got you, Buck,” Steve heard himself say, stepping away from the bed to pull the covers high over Bucky like Steve knew he liked.

“Stay.”

It was a single word spoken to Steve as he turned to head for the door, but, spoken from Bucky, it held the strongest kind of power Steve had ever known. He knew that he'd never be immune to it, no matter how many times he was exposed to it.

Steve simply nodded, heading for the chair and taking a seat on it, not wanting the grab his pillow from outside the room in fear of alarming Bucky and making him believe he was going to leave him after being asked to stay. But as soon as he sat on the rough cushion, Bucky's voice rang out again.

“No, here,” Bucky's voice was louder than Steve was used to, but he could have sworn that it held the determination that Steve hadn't heard since Bucky's return. “In bed. With me.”

“Are you sure?” Steve couldn't help asking, not wanting to push Bucky and then have him scramble away after all the progress they had made in just a few short weeks, but he was already rising from the chair and taking a small step toward the bed and Bucky.

“Yes,” There was that determination Steve heard again, followed by a slightly less assured, “If you want.”

“Of course I want to.” Steve couldn't help the words from bubbling out of his mouth with a little laugh, momentarily regretting them before catching sight of the rare, albeit small, smile gracing Bucky's face.

Crawling carefully into the bed, Steve settled in beside Bucky's curled up body, absently reaching a hand out to smooth down that dark hair again, enjoying how Bucky didn't move away from his touch. Bucky was the one to move closer to Steve, relaxing after a few minutes and scooting toward Steve as if searching warmth or comfort, or perhaps something altogether different, and that gave Steve the confidence to lean down and press a soft kiss to Bucky's hairline.

“Get some sleep, Bucky.” He said, but Bucky's eyes were already closed, his breathing slowing down in a way that made it clear he was falling asleep right next to Steve.

And that in itself could have made Steve cry of joy or relief because it meant that, of all things, Bucky trusted him, which was not an easy thing for someone who had endured so much.

Steve thought he'd never get any sleep when he had the now peacefully sleeping body of his best friend beside him, too focused on that that he wouldn't get even a moment of sleep, but he was surprised to find that he fell asleep just fine, and you know what?

It was the best sleep of his entire life.


End file.
